


Below

by SumOfAllThings



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Dark Lucifer (TV), Hell, Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Revenge, Slavery, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2020-06-23 23:34:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19711780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SumOfAllThings/pseuds/SumOfAllThings
Summary: Crowley felt gentle fingers run over wings, carefully preening his already meticulous down feathers before carding tenderly through his primaries. Azriphale hummed tunelessly behind him, offering comfort as Crowley continued to shudder and twitch uncontrollably.“What are we going to do?” he whispered, unable to disguise the overwhelming dread threatening to shatter his carefully constructed self-control.“Hush love,” his angel whispered, pressing a light kiss against the back of his neck. “I have you.”“He’s looking for me,” Crowley whispered, unable to keep the horror from his voice despite how dearly he wished to spare Azriphale. “I can’t hide from him forever. No one can.”





	1. Chapter 1

Crowley felt gentle fingers run over wings, carefully preening his already meticulous down feathers before carding tenderly through his primaries. Azriphale hummed tunelessly behind him, offering comfort as Crowley continued to shudder and twitch uncontrollably.

“What are we going to do?” he whispered, unable to disguise the overwhelming dread threatening to shatter his carefully constructed self-control.

“Hush love,” his angel whispered, pressing a light kiss against the back of his neck. “I have you.”

“ _He’s_ looking for me,” Crowley whimpered, unable to keep the horror from his voice despite how dearly he wished to spare Azriphale. “I can’t hide from him forever. No one can.”

Azriphale inhaled raggedly as his fingers continued to roam over Crowley’s quaking feathers. “He hasn’t found you yet. He may have even forgotten about you. The imp could be a coincidence”

Crowley shook his head miserably. Of course he hadn’t forgotten; how could he when Crowley had so flagrantly disobeyed. If it wasn’t for Azriphale he’d already be down below, being tortured for eternity by the very demons he had betrayed.

“Please Crowley,” Azriphale whispered, sounding wrecked. “I will look after you. I won’t let them take you.”

“One angel against the legions of hell,” Crowley said with a bitter laugh. He looked over his shoulder, meeting Azriphale’s shining eyes. He felt his heart break a little. “If anyone could, it’d be you love.”

“I stopped them once, I’ll stop them again,” Aziraphale said, trying so very hard to be strong for both of them. “I’m hardly powerless, and I have a flaming sword.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said, smiling despite himself. “It flames like anything.”

His angel pressed his face against Crowley’s hair, inhaling deeply.

Neither of them mentioned that the imp that very nearly took Crowley down below was a lesser demon. Yes, Azriphale beat him but what if it had been a baron or, _someone_ forbid, a duke? Yes, Azriphale was a principality and despite his bookishness, he was an excellent fighter, but there was only one of him. They had chosen their side after all.

“The wards will keep anyone from entering, my dear. Have faith.”

Crowley eyed the barriers with a small shudder of distaste. They weren’t meant for him, but that didn’t mean the apotropaic magic didn’t make him uncomfortable. He could only hope they would be strong enough to repel whoever below decided to send after him next.

“Will we stay here forever then?” he asked, leaning into his angels solid bulk. “Just the two of us holed up in this dusty bookstore?”

“It is not dusty,” Aziraphale said indignantly.

Despite himself, Crowley smiled. “I can think of worse things, I suppose.”

Crowley must have fallen asleep after that, lulled by Azriphale’s comforting presence and pleasant touch. It came as something of a shock when he was woken with an abruptness that left him clingingly, disorientated, to the arm wrapped firmly around his chest.

“Get out,” Azriphale snarled, dragging them back as his wings erupted and flared threateningly. “Or I promise you I will not be held accountable for my actions.”

 _That’s not good,_ Crowley thought a little hysterically as he caught a glimpse of Beelzebub and Hastur. The duke only had eyes for Crowley, smiling meanly as the slighter demon started to shake uncontrollably. Azriphale noticed too. He shoved Crowley back, shielding him from view beneath his great wings as though it would stop the demons from noticing him.

“You’re not taking him,” he said, his voice close to tears. He knew as well as a Crowley that he was no match against a prince of hell, but bless his heart he was going to try his damndest. “He doesn’t belong to you anymore.”

“Thatzzz where you’re wrong,” Beelzebub said with maddening calm. “Crowley in a demon, despite whatever elzzzze he may have become during his time on earth. Our Lord wishes all of his demons to return below. He izzzzz the last.”

“You shouldn’t have tried to hide from him, Crowley,” Hastur mocked gleefully. “He knows you now, he remembers, and he is not pleased.”

Despite himself, Crowley made a small, frightened noise in the back of his throat. Azriphale reacted to the noise with a snarl, miracling his flaming sword and brandishing it viciously. “If you try to take him I will discorporate you.”

“Oh little angel, you’re no match for me,” Beelzebub said, sounding increasingly amused. “However, if you step azzzzzide you won’t be harmed. I would prefer not to deal with above.”

Crowley pressed his face into Aziraphale's shoulder, committing his scent to memory. “You can’t beat them love,” he whispered, feeling his eyes mist with tears. Poor Azriphale would be left alone for the rest of eternity. Who would care for him, who would chat and play and fuss over him? It wasn’t fair. “Put down the sword. Please.”

“Oh my dear,” Aziraphale whispered, turning to look at him. “I would rather be obliterated than give you up without a fight.”

It always was a bit of a shock when he watched his angel go into battle. Aziraphale was a principality and a guardian of Eden; he was once a soldier trained in the art of war. He was truly majestic.

It was painful watching how quickly Beezlebub bested him; she was a prince of hell after all and was once a Seraphim, the highest order of angel. She met him strike for strike, brandishing a long dagger with all the precision of a master. She slashed and thrust, narrowly avoiding gutting Aziraphale as she sliced into him. It quickly became appaling obvious she was just playing with him. All it took was one powerful backhand and Azriphale was out cold. The prince kicked him for good measure, sending his angel and his extinguished sword skidding across the bookshop floor.

“Idiot,” she hissed, looking down at him, contemplating.

 _No, no - was she going to discorporate him?_ If he went back above it would be as good as a death sentence. He couldn’t lose him. He just couldn’t.

Crowley made a choked noise, trying to draw her attention. It worked. She snapped her head up, staring at him with an unnerving intensity. Crowley held her gaze with fierce determination. “Take him then,” she said, gesturing at Hastur.

The Duke of hell approached Crowley with a delighted grin. The slighter demon retreated until his back collided with a bookshelf and back was no longer an option. He shrank in on himself as Hastur boxed him in, the demons foul breath washing over him.

“I’ve been waiting for this day for a very long time,” Hastur confided, his lips almost pressed against Crowley’s jaw. “Our Lord is going to destroy you Crowley.”

He couldn’t meet his eyes, not when he was so painfully outmatched. He could only hope that if he went peacefully they might spare his beautiful, precious angel.

“Hurry up,” Beelzebub demanded. “I dizzzzlike being above.”

“Of course,” Hastur said, locking a manacle-like hold around Crowley’s wrist and tugging him forward. “Don’t try anything stupid,” he added for the benefit of the slighter demon.

Beelzebub opened a door to hell with a simple wave of her arm. _So much for the wards_ , Crowley thought bitterly. He didn’t look at Aziraphale, too afraid his notice would bring attention to his helplessness.

“Time to go home,” Hastur laughed, following Beelzebub into hell and dragging Crowley with him.


	2. Chapter 2

The smell of brimstone and fire immediately invaded his nostrils; his lungs burned with it, suffocating and hurtful.

“Home sweet home,” Hastur growled, his hold tight enough to crack bone.

Crowley looked around blearily, his confusion growing when he was pulled into a room with a grand gilded staircase and luxurious red carpet. The lack of screaming hordes withering in anguish made him nervous.

“Where are we?” he asked timidly, risking a glance at Hestur when he was strong-armed towards the stairs.

“Our Lordzzzzz castle,” Beelzebub answered easily, her voice laced with satisfaction. “He awaits.”

Crowley’s legs gave out. He didn’t mean to, he really wasn’t trying to piss them off. He collapsed on the stairs, his upper body dangling in Hastur’s iron grip.

“None of that,” the duke groused, catching him under the arm and hoisting him back to his feet. “You will walk, snake, or I will break your wing and drag you inside by your hair.”

“Enough,” Beelzebub snapped, striding up to them and clutching Crowley’s jaw. “You will obey.”

He closed his eyes, shuddering uncontrollably. Sandwedged between the two of them was terrifying.

“Walk, zzzzerpant.”

He nodded as best he could whilst she was holding onto his chin, relieved when she finally let him go and stepped back.

“Not so flash now, are you?” Hastur laughed, gripping his upper arm and tugging Crowley forward. “You don’t have anything to hide behind anymore. Not your lies, or your supposed charm. Not even your little boyfriend.”

Crowley didn’t answer. It was taking all of his self-control not to crumble.

“Here we are,” Hastur sneered, his grip tightening when they approached a huge gilded and red chamber at the top of the staircase. “I can’t wait to watch him utterly destroy you.”

Satan was human-shaped, tall and handsome with pitch black hair and eyes. He looked up idly, outwardly bored as Hastur flung Crowley at his feet.

“And this is?” he asked in clear disinterest.

“It izzzzzz the serpent Crowley,” Balzabubb said, bowing deeply. “He wazzzzz the last that remained above.”

Crowley curled into himself, raising his wings defensively. He was a temptation demon without rank, flanked by a Duke and Prince of hell as Lucifer himself looked down at him.

He was done for.

*******

Lucifer looked thoughtfully at the quaking demon, his slender frame mostly hidden beneath a pair of striking raven wings. Lucifer remembered the serpent of Eden of course, but he didn’t think he’d set eyes on him for at least six thousand years. Unless you considered the...incident that took place a few decades prior.

“Did he resist?” he asked idly.

“His companion, the angel Azzzzzzriphale, attempted to defend him. He wazzzzz no threat.”

“Did you kill him?” he asked, mildly interested. He vaguely remembered Azriphale, a principality and guard of the eastern gate of Eden. He was an odd creature with curly blonde hair and a preference for the earth. Harmless, for the most part.

Crawly made a small, choked noise, his wings noticeably trembling.

“I did not, my lord. But I can go back…”

“No,” Crawly gasped, lowering his wings enough to meet Lucifer’s gaze. His large golden eyes were stark with desperation and terror. “Please don’t...don’t hurt him.”

Interesting -- a demon protecting an angel; there would be quite the story there, he was sure of it.

“He’s your companion, yes?”

Crawly lowered his head, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. “Don’t,” he gasped, clearly distraught and scared out of his mind. “He’s harmless. You don’t need to -”

“Quiet,” Lucifer ordered, pleased when the little serpent immediately obeyed. He stood up, stepping over Crowley’s cringing form as he addressed the watching lord and prince. “Lock it down. No one gets in or out, not unless I say so.”

“Yezzzzz, my lord,” Bazlebubb said, bowing. “It will be done.”

“Good, now get out.”

Hastur hesitated, his gaze lingering intently on the serpent. He seemed strangely reluctant to leave him. “Do you want me to take him to the torture pit, my lord?”

Lucifer wondered if lord Hastur wanted to hurt the little serpent, or fuck him. He knew he should just pass him over, he had no use for the demon and certain appearances needed to be kept. The serpent had disobeyed him on numerous occasions, he should make an example of him. And yet…

“Leave him,” he found himself saying, watching the tempter thoughtfully. “I’ll gift him to Mazikeen.”

Crawly released a terrified whimper, impossibly curling further into himself as wrapped his wings around his thin and shaking body.

Hastur seemed displeased but he wisely held his tongue. Lucifer waited, idly curious to see if the duke would be stupid enough to question him.

Evidently not. Hastur and Bazlebubb bowed respectively and with one final glance at the serpent, the duke wisely left. It was almost a pity; Lucifer was feeling a little bored.

“Do you intend to just lay there?” he asked as he threw himself on his throne and conjured a glass of whiskey. “It’s rather tiresome watching you tremble. Perhaps a chats in order. Other than our brief reacquaintance a few years ago I don’t believe we’ve discussed much since the garden. We have a lot to catch up on.”

The demon didn’t respond. Lucifer didn’t think it was because he was trying to be disobedient - he was clearly terrified. The mention of Maze seemed to have completely undone him.

“Crawly, look at me when I speak to you,” he ordered, allowing a little command to bleed into his tone.

The serpent sat upright, his arms and wings wrapped protectively around his torso. He slowly looked up until his gaze fixed somewhere near Lucifer’s chest.

“Good boy,” Lucifer allowed, taking a moment to properly study Crawly’s lean frame. “Tell me Crawly, why did you ignore my summons?”

“I meant no disrespect -”

“Bullshit,” Lucifer interrupted, feeling a frizzle of anger. “You knew exactly what you were doing. You had no intention of returning.”

Crawly buried his face in his hands, shaking his head miserably. “Please, I just want to go home.”

That makes two of us, Lucifer thought a little miserably.


	3. Chapter 3

The serpent was hiding. Lucifer knew he couldn’t have gone far, not after he placed a boundary curse around the throneroom perimeter. He looked around curiously, easing onto his throne with a tired sigh. “I know you’re in here somewhere,” he said, his gaze immediately zeroing in on a flicker of movement across the room. He stood up, intrigued as he approached an ageless suit of armour. He went down on his haunches and smiled wickedly. “You didn’t think you could hide from me, did you?”

He heard a small, frantic hiss; a clear warning to back off.

“I would advise you to come out. You won’t do yourself any favours if I have to force you.”

No response; the serpent was either too terrified to move or he was being purposefully disobedient. Lucifer didn’t know Crawly that well but he didn’t think it was the latter. Lamenting the ridiculousness of his life, he reached behind the armour and skimmed his fingers over a small coil of trembling scales. He shifted his hold and grasped the demon gently, half expecting the snake to strike.

He shouldn’t have worried, the absurd creature was so obviously overcome with terror that he was too petrified to even open his eyes. Lucifer carried him to his throne and settled him on his lap, absently running his fingers over the cool scales on the serpents head. He looked up idly sometime later, feeling a frisson of irritation when one of the castle stewards stepped into his hall.

“The council are here, dark one. Will you see them?”

“Send them in,” Lucifer growled, tightening his grip on the serpents head when he began to squirm. “If I were you, I wouldn’t bring extra attention to myself,” he warned in a whisper, letting the demon go, intrigued to see if he would try to escape.

Crawly didn’t react. Instead, he coiled himself tightly on Lucifer’s lap, hiding his face as the six princes of hell entered his hall. Lucifer watched them with an inward snarl, disliking having them so close when they outnumbered him. He had been gone for a very long time and was aware his return would not be welcome by all. He didn’t know exactly when it would happen, but he expected some of them would be desperate enough to turn against him soon. 

“My lord,” Beelzebub greeted, standing at the forefront of the group. She was his second and the greatest among his fallen. She ruled in his stead whilst he went into retirement, doing a thoroughly useless job forcing chaos into order. He was, to say the least, a little pissed at her. She bowed deeply, her gaze wondering curiously over the serpent before flickering back to Lucifer. “I bring tidings from the fifth circle. Lilith has escaped her cell.”

“Has she now?” he purred, running his fingers over the snake's sleek scales. “And how did that happen I wonder?”

“We’re not zzzzzzure yet, great one. All of her guardzzz were killed...utterly dezztroyed.”

“And what are you doing to find her?” he asked, allowing some of his anger to bleed into his voice. His princes immediately backed away, none of them brave enough to risk his ire. He felt the snake begin to tremble, clearly distressed by his tone. 

“We’re calling a hunt, my lord. We were unsure if you would want to lead.”

“You go,” he said, leaning forward intently. “I expect her to be returned to her cell before the end of the day. Do not disappoint me.”

They fell about themselves, bowing and scraping as they retreated from the hall. Lucifer watched them warily, waiting until he was finally alone to relax a little. “You should be proud,” he said to the serpent, continuing to steadily stoke the little ball of tension on his lap. “Coming out of an audience with the princes of hell unharmed is almost unheard of.”

The snake didn’t respond. After a short while, Lucifer felt his boredom mount. He picked up the serpent and placed him on the ground at his feet. “Transform,” he commanded. When the snake just shook harder Lucifer nudged him with the toe of his shoe. “I won’t ask again. Transform.”

Crawly shifted smoothly to his human form. He remained curled on the floor, clearly trying to remain small and unassuming despite Lucifer’s very clear interest.

“Are you usually this quiet?” he poked him again, wondering if the serpent was broken. “Come on then, speak.”

“W-what do you want me to say?” the demon asked as he looked up beneath a fringe of fiery auburn hair.

“Tell me about your angel,” he commanded, sitting back. “Is he truly your companion?”

Crawly shook his head miserably, his lips tightly pursed.

“I asked you a question,” he said, feeling a spark of irritation. He was not used to repeating himself.

“He’s my...he’s mine,” Crawly said a little desperately.

“I’m sure he is,” Lucifer said, feeling a pang of loss as he remembered the people he left behind. “You’ve been above for a long time.”

“Get up there and make some trouble,” Crawly whispered.

“Come again.”

“That’s what I was told to do. To cause some trouble.”

“Well, you certainly succeeded,” Lucifer grumbled, sitting forward and thoroughly enjoying the small meep of alarm the snake made when he caught his jaw. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten your part in the apocalypse. You defied me Crawly.”

“I - I didn’t,” the demon shook his head desperately. “I mean...I wasn’t trying to defy anyone. I just couldn’t let it end. I couldn’t watch the whole world just stop. Please...I’m sorry. Please -”

Lucifer felt a shock of surprise. Crawly certainly was an unusual demon. He almost seemed human-like, which was as much of a relief as it was an oddity. But then what did he expect from a demon that was in love with an angel?

“I have work to do,” Lucifer growled, releasing the serpent with a small shove that sent him sprawling on his back. “Stay where you are. Bother me and I’ll throttle you. Understand?”

The Demon nodded wordlessly, his golden eyes the size of two dinner plates as he slowly sat up and drew himself into a tight ball of misery.


	4. Chapter 4

Crowley had been fortunate enough to never meet Mazikeen. Lucifer’s enforcer and prized torturer was born to Lilith years after he left hell. Whenever he was forced below he did everything in his power to avoid the dark prince's attendants. He worked very hard to remain unseen and unnoticed. The occasional reports he sent back offered him some notoriety but that was mostly confined to his department. The high-rollers in hell had no reason to think about him, and that was the way he liked it.

He watched Mazikeen step into the throne room with the air of someone who knew they were the biggest, badest preditor around for miles. She walked casually towards him, expertly spinning two twin daggers in her hands. He watched her cautiously, feeling increasingly alarmed when he realised she wasn't stopping. He looked around quickly, acutely aware they were alone together.

“Still alive, huh?” she asked, her eyes bright and wicked as she stared down at him. He tried not to stare at the stretch of ruined skin covering half of her face. He heard she didn’t react well when she thought she was being judged. “I thought for sure Lucifer would have got bored of you by now.”

Crowley shrugged with feigned indifference. “Guess he must like having me around.”

“You do make an ideal pet,” she agreed with a smirk. “That’s what everyone’s calling you now, by the way. The devil's pet.”

“I‘ve been called worse,” Crowley said, genuinely uninterested by something as petty as name-calling. He tried to edge backwards without making it look too obvious. He realised he’d failed miserably when the torturer pointed one of her twirling blades at him. “I don’t want any trouble,” he said, wincing a little when his voice cracked. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he didn’t stand a chance against her.

“It’d be pretty stupid of you if you did,” she said, her smile gruesome as he leaned forward. “I heard a rumour. Do you want to hear it?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, drawing his wings against his back. He thought he might be able to avoid her if he took flight but the boundary curse wouldn’t allow him to leave the hall. He didn’t think Mazikeen would miss him if she really put her mind to grounding him with one of her daggers.

“It’s about the principality.”

He felt his heart miss a beat. “ _What_?” he asked, moving fluidly to his feet. “What did you say?”

“Look at that,” she mocked, putting away the daggers with an impressive flourish. “You’re taller than I expected,” she grabbed his jaw and turned his head from side to side. “Pretty too. But then the fallen, the sane ones, often are.”

“Has something happened to him?” he asked, feeling his terror mount as she continued to study him with a small smirk.

“Define _something_.”

“Please,” Crowley gasped, grabbing her wrist in his desperation. “Is he OK?”

She looked very pointedly at her wrist and Crowley let her go with a small shudder of terror. He stepped back, putting some distance between them.

“He tried to get inside,” she said at last.

Crowley felt like someone had slapped him. “What?”

“He tried to sneak below. He even managed to break the first seal before he was discovered. Lucifer was not pleased.”

 _Oh god, oh god._ “What happened to him?”

“He managed to escape - all the luckier for him.”

Crowley released a breath he didn’t realise he was holding.

“And then he tried strolling through the front door.”

“ _He did what_?” Crowley squeaked.

“He’s got some balls, I’ll give him that,” she said with a chuckle. “Yeah, he tried strolling through the main gate. Might have got away with it too if Asmodeus wasn’t loitering near the entrance.”

“Is he OK?” Crowley whispered faintly.

“You wouldn’t think it looking at him but that angel of yours knows how to fight. He didn’t stand a chance against Asmodeus, obviously, but by all accounts, he gave it a pretty impressive go. Got stabbed of course, but he managed to escape all the same. I’m not sure how long he’ll last with a hole in him, but he might be OK.”

Crowley forced all his panic and fear down as deep as it would go and met the torturers gaze with feigned numbness. “Thank you for telling me,” he managed in a strained voice.

She looked mildly surprised. “Why is he so desperate to get you back, I wonder?”

“We’re friends,” he answered truthfully.

She looked unconvinced. “Just friends?”

He didn’t say anything but she was an expert at reading people. Her eyes widened in understanding. “Huh, an angel and a demon in love,” she ruffled his hair. “It’s sweet that you think you get to have that, Crawly.”

“It’s Crowley,” he said automatically.

She paused, considering. “All right then, Crowley,” she allowed, patting his cheek. “See you around.”

He waited until he was alone before he sunk off to a corner. His knees buckled and he hit the floor hard. He wrapped his arms firmly against his chest and covered his front with his wings.

What was Azriphale thinking trying to come down to hell? He was going to get himself killed and Crowley couldn’t do a blessed thing to help him. He knew nothing would make Azrphale stop. He knew because if their positions were reversed, he’d do the same.


	5. Chapter 5

“Your pet doesn’t know anything,” Maze declared, collapsing on Lucifer’s bed with the easy familiarity that came with a long friendship filled with trust and, on occasion, some really fantastic sex. “In fact, when I told him what his little angel was up to he looked like he was going to faint," she gave him an unimpressed look. "He’s soft, for a fallen.”

Lucifer looked up from his ledger, glad for an excuse to shirk his duties for a while. “He never was quite...right; wasn’t a fighter, even before the fall.”

Maze’s ears perked up -- Lucifer so rarely talked about his life in heaven -- he knew how curious she was. “Oh, and what was he, before?” she asked with feigned casualness.

He gave her an indulgent look. “I forget his exact purpose -- something to do with healing as I recall, in fact, he has quite the talent for it, now I think about it,” Lucifer said, remembering a time when he whispered in the ears of curious, questioning angels. “I was ...surprised when he fell -- I sometimes wondered if he actually meant to follow me.”

“What, he fell by accident? How do you accidentally fall?” the Lilim asked with an eye roll. “Did he forget he had wings or something?”

Lucifer threw an unimpressed look her way. “He didn’t always follow orders, questioned things too. If there was one thing our father disliked it was being questioned.”

“Do you want me to take him below, _question_ him properly?” Maze asked, changing the subject. She disliked discussing the almighty.

“Do you think he’s hiding something?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. “I don’t think he’s plotting against you if that’s what you’re asking.”

“He stopped the apocalypse.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “He did. So, do you want me to take him?”

Lucifer sighed heavily. “I don’t know whether I should be impressed or enraged by the angel’s nerve. What sort of idiot actually tries to break into hell?”

“He wants the serpent,” Maze said, grinning deviously. “You could use that.”

Lucifer felt his interest piqued. “I could, I suppose. But for what purpose?”

She stretched languidly, showing off her impressive curves. “I’ve been asking around. The little principality was created as a cherubim. He was disgraced and demoted, but he still has power lurking beneath that pleasant little visage of his.”

“How does that help me, my dear?”

“He wants the snake, he’s risking his life to get to him. What else might he do, for Crowley's continued safety?”

The idea was both unsettling and exciting. To have the power of an angel, a powerful one, at his beck and call was truly tempting, but something stopped him from immediately agreeing. He knew his lost lover would condone his actions, she would tell him it was wrong.

But then, she wasn’t here anymore.

*************

“Give him to me,” Hastur said, stepping forward with his hands outstretched. “I want a word.”

Crowley fell back, practically hiding behind one of Lucifer’s guards. “I’m flattered, but I'll pass” he snarked, ducking out of sight when the duke snarled at him.

“I don’t know why you’re still in one piece you little runt -- I can only imagine what lies you spouted in order to avoid punishment -- but I won’t stand here a moment longer whilst Ligur remains unavenged. I’m going to break every bone if your scrawny little -”

“Duke Hastur,” Lucifer boomed, stepping into the room with an unimpressed look on his handsome face. “Is there a reason you’re in my hall, unannounced and threatening my thrall?”

Crowley flinched despite himself. He was the serpent of Eden, a greater demon and a fallen angel. He wasn’t a slave -- _he wasn’t._

“That-that bastard killed Ligur! He poured holy water on him - holy water my lord. He’s a monster and murderer and he deserves to be punished. He deserved to have his eyes plucked out, his wings torn off. He -”

“Enough,” Lucifer snapped, raising his hand for silence. “You brought him to me, yes? Because I demanded it.”

“Yes my lord,” Hastur said. “But-”

“No but,” the lord snarled. “He is _mine_. Mine to punish, mine to use or destroy. You have no right to come into my hall and touch what is mine.”

“But he’s a murderer,” Hestur cried.

Crowley ducked his head. “It was self-defence.”

“He didn’t do anything to you!” Hastur screamed, stumbling towards him. 

“But he would have. You both would have!”

The duke turned his furious gaze on Lucifer. “He lost your son, my lord. He is the reason the apocalypse didn’t succeed, him and his cunt of an angel. They’re to blame, they’re - _umph_!”

Lucifer made a sharp gesture with his hand and Hestur’s mouth instantly sealed shut. His pale eyes bulged in his head as his hands clawed desperately at his face.

“Get. Out,” Lucifer shouted in Enochian, the language cutting into Crowley's brain as his eyes flashed with hellfire.

The duke threw one last hateful look at Crowley and bolted. The serpent threw his hands over his ears and crouched low, almost wishing he could follow the duke if it meant he could escape Lucifer’s steely gaze.

“Come here,” he ordered, his eyes still burning.

Crowley straightened slowly.

“Crowley, come here.”

He couldn’t disobey. It’s not like he could run. He stepped up to Lucifer and dropped his gaze.

“You’re very popular, Crowley.”

He shook his head, wrapping his arms around his waist whilst he waited.

“Your angel seems to determined to find you.”

He looked up warily.

“It seems only fair we clear a path for him.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually post chapters this close together, but I've had a fun day of writing...so, ta-daaaaaaaa :)

Aziraphale concentrated on knitting together the wound in his side, sighing tiredly as he the infected flesh resisted the compulsion to mend. He never was very good at healing. Crowley, on the other hand, had something of a knack for renegative magic.

Thinking of his demon was painful. Aziraphale felt lost, lonely and bereft. He had spent every day for the past nineteen years with Crowley, and now he was gone, stolen and very possibly being tortured. And God help him, Aziraphale didn’t know what to do. He tried to reach him, oh how he tried, but the gates of hell were too well guarded. He was running out of ideas and it was making him reckless. He wouldn’t be any good to either of them if he ended up discorporated and sent back to heaven.

“Looks nasty,” a woman’s voice said, sounding amused as Aziriphale jumped and immediately grimaced in pain. “Asmodeus got you good, huh?”

“You’re a demon,” Aziraphale gasped stupidly. He blinked and backed away. “What do you want?”

“I’ve come to deliver a message,” the woman said brightly. She had an odd smell about her, one he recognised from long ago.

“You're one of the Lilim. A lessor demon.”

She snarled at him. “What did you call me?”

“What is your message?” Aziraphale demanded, aware his voice sounded more than a little shrill. He didn’t think it was entirely unwarranted. “Is it about…”

“The serpent? It is, of sorts.”

Aziraphale resisted the urge to shake the woman and gestured to his sofa. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”

She blinked at the sudden change of subject, clearly suspicious. “What?”

“A cup of tea? Or coffee if you prefer.”

She smiled very slightly. “Go on then.”

Aziraphale didn’t bother to boil the kettle. He brought forth a small miracle, making a tea set appear as he did up the buttons of his bloodied shirt. “Please, my dear. Your message?”

“Lucifer wants to make a deal.”

Azriaphale very carefully reached for a cup of tea, willing away the slight tremor in his hand. “Does he really?”

“He wants to meet with you. I’m here to escort you,” she pointed to the floor. “Down below.”

“You wish to take me into the depths of hell to meet the _devil_?” Azripahle asked incredulously. “Are you quite mad?”

“It’s the only way you’ll get to see the serpent again.”

The angles human heartbeat painfully in his chest. “Is he...alright?”

“For the most part.”

Aziraphale put his tea down. “I don’t suppose I have a choice.”

“No,” she agreed. “I don’t suppose you do.”

******************************

Crowley was bored. Being scared shitless could only hold a demon's attention for so long, after all. He pressed his back against the steps leading up to Lucifer’s throne and watched the proceedings from the corner of his eyes.

He would have liked to hide, or to at least transform into a smaller target. No such luck. For whatever reason, Lucifer wanted him front and centre. The dark lord had threatened him with a spectacularly steely glare and Crowley was too exhausted to test him.

The demons partitioning the dark lord stared openly at the Crowley. He heard whispering and the word pet uttered more than once. He rolled his eyes and winched his wings firmly against his back, trying to make himself appear smaller and less interesting. He knew the wings weren’t helping -- they so obviously declared him a fallen angel -- the last thing in the world he wanted was notoriety.

As the hours passed Lucifer grew noticeably more irritated. Despite his warning earlier in the day Crowley began to edge away from the throne. He looked up sharply when Lucifer’s voice became noticeably cold.

“Yoakish, agent of the southern planes. During your time on the earth you killed a human child,” Lucifer snarled, his grip on his throne tightening until his knuckles turned white. “How do you plead?”

“It was the boy's fault,” the demon cried, his black eyes moving furiously around the room. “The child followed me into a cellar. I didn’t know I was locking him inside. I didn’t know.”

“You know you are prohibited from harming humans.”

“The boy was stupid -- foolish and slow. He never should have followed me.”

One moment Lucifer was sat on his throne and the next he had his hands wrapped around the demon's neck, squeezing the life out of him. “A human child died because of your incompetence. Because of your carelessness, the child’s mother threw herself in front of a moving vehicle. It caused a twenty car pile up. Ten other humans were killed. All because you didn’t have the sense to notice a human child following you!”

“But my lord, the chaos and destruction...it is our purpose.”

“Our purpose is to tempt and to punish. We are not meant to directly cause death you fool,” so saying, Lucifer burned the demon to nothingness.

Crowley pressed his hands over his mouth, trying very hard to contain the frightened sound threatening to break free. He edged further back, throwing his wings over his face as Lucifer ascended to the throne. “Get out,” he growled. “All of you.”

The demons fled from the hall, all of them scrabbling over one another to break free. Crowley watched them longingly, tensing when he felt Lucifer’s gaze wander over him. He moved his wings, shielding his face from view.

“You can’t hide from me Crowley,” Lucifer said, sounding tired and a little amused. “And I thought I told you not to move.”

“Are you going to destroy me too?” Crowley asked recklessly. “Or are you done for the day?”

_Where in heaven did that come from?_

“Excuse me?”

Crowley shook his head. “I’m sorry - I didn’t mean that. I’m tired and I’m worried about - I’m worried. I’m sorry...my lord.”

“Don’t test me, snake,” Lucifer growled, his voice sending a thrill of dread coursing through Crowley. “But, since we’re chatting. Get up.”

Crowley reluctantly lowered his wings. “Why?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, seemingly at the end of his already frayed patience. “Because I told you to,” he walked down the steps towards Crowley, his eyes darkening when the demon staggered back. “Don’t run from me, Crowley.”

“I wasn’t,” he protested, flinching when the devil took his upper arm and dragged him towards the main exit. “Where-where are we going?”

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Satan said pleasantly.

Crowley _almost_ planted his feet as he was pulled out of the hall. Yes, he desperately wanted out but the realisation that he was being dragged into the unknown was a terrifying one. Where in heaven was Satan taking him? “Never been much of a fan of surprises,” he muttered.

“Oh, you’ll like this one,” Lucifer promised, his grip like iron as he dragged Crowley through the halls of his palace.


	7. Chapter 7

Unsurprisingly, Aziraphale had never been in hell before. In fairness, few angles -- at least the non-fallen variety-- felt the need to visit the inferno. Aziraphale didn’t quite know what to make of it. It was no surprise that it was dark, dreary and grey — the only source of light coming from a number of flickering, low hanging lightbulbs —but gloominess aside, it wasn’t the burning, sulphurous pit he had always imagined.

He ducked in an attempt to avoid a particularly nasty imp. The creature spat and hissed at him, threatening with its teeth. Aziraphale stumbled over a clump of rubbish and accidentally brushed against a filthy wall. He paused when a particularly odd poster caught his attention.

“Do a lot of people lick the walls?” he asked, hurrying after his guide when he realised she wasn’t waiting for him.

“Enough to warrant a poster,” she answered gaily.

He paused when he noticed the state of his coat sleeve. _Oh dear_ , it was absolutely ruined.

“All of this clutter is somewhat...unappealing,” he said, at a loss for anything else to say.

Poor Crowley, who so cherished cleanliness and structure, would undoubtedly despise such a terrible place. Aziraphale’s heart clenched just thinking about him.

“It’s hell,” the lesser demon answered shortly.

It was certainly a stark contrast compared to the pristine whiteness of heaven. It made sense, he supposed. Heaven and hell were utter opposites; not that Aziriphale really liked heaven all that much. It was a bit too...sterile for his tastes. It took him about two seconds to realise he most certainly did not care for hell. Forced between the two, he would reluctantly choose above.

Thank goodness for lovely, perfect Earth. Now all he needed to do was collect his demon and they could return to their home, together and...

“You’re bleeding,” the lesser demon observed, sounding bored as she waited for him beside a cast iron door. He followed her, feeling a shock of surprise when they entered into a much grander, much cleaner hallway.

He looked down, mildly concerned to realise he was dripping. “Oh dear. Do you have something I could use to stop the blood?”

“Nope,” she said brightly.

“Oh...nevermind then. I’ll just -”

“Bleed all over yourself?”

He smiled, thinking some rather unangelic thoughts that immediately made him feel ashamed of himself. “Is it much further?”

“Why, you feeling tired?”

As a matter of fact, he wasn’t feeling at his best. Not that he’d admit that out loud. He suspected any signs of weakness in hell would not be treated favourably. “I’m fine.”

She shrugged. “If you say so. Well, here we are,” she walked up to a nondescript wooden door and knocked firmly.

The door was opened by a tall, handsome young man who scowled quite spectacularly as the angel gaped back at him.

_Oh fuck._

He thought his internal meltdown could be forgiven, after all, it wasn’t every day one found themselves face-to-face with the devil.

“It’s been a long time,” Lucifer said, stepping back and gesturing him inside.

“Yes,” he agreed, trying very hard not to flinch as he edged around the devil and stepped into the room beyond. It was a very nice room, full of posh furniture and elegant, clean lines. “I don’t think we’ve ever had the...opportunity to speak directly before.”

“Hmmm, you never were very interested in my sermons back in the day. Far too virtuous for anything I had to say,” Lucifer smiled wickedly. “Oh, how times have changed.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, frowning. King of hell or not, Aziriphale was a principality and an angel. He would not be cowed. “Do you know what -- never mind. Where is Crowley?”

“Straight to the point. I like that.”

“Where is he?” Aziraphale demanded, almost shouting in his desperation. He had come so far and he was so, so close. “I want to see him. _Now_.”

Oh dear lord, he was going to die. He was going to die and he would never see Crowley again and ...

“Bossy little thing, aren’t you,” Lucifer noted, smiling mockingly. “Maze my dear, if you would be so kind?”

She bobbed her head and exited into an adjacent chamber. Aziraphale watched her leave, abruptly and painfully aware he was alone with the prince of hell.

“I have to ask,” Lucifer said, walking up to a liquor cabinet that appeared out of nowhere and pouring two glasses of whiskey. He offered one to Aziraphale, who shook his head vehemently. “What exactly did you think you were going to do, even if you did manage to sneak in?”

“I’m here for Crowley,” Aziraphale said, proud when his voice didn’t shake.”I intend to leave with him by any means possible.”

Satan raised his glass in cheers, clearly mocking. “He’s a pretty enough thing, I’ll give you that.”

Aziraphale felt a surge of jealousy and anger. Thankfully, Maze reappeared before Aziraphale could say something that would probably get him discorporated. He looked up and felt his heart clench when his eyes fell on a beaten, subdued but wonderfully familiar face.

Crowley’s naked eyes went very wide when he spotted Aziraphale. He tried to rush forward but Maze appeared to be holding rather tightly onto his arm. Aziraphale staggered forward and felt a spike of fear when Lucifer stepped into his path.

Fear and an almost overwhelming sense of fury.

“Get out of my way,” he demanded, painfully aware that his voice sounded wrecked. Crowley looked so terribly frightened. The poor dear was bruised, dirty and trembling. Goodness only knew what he had been through. “Stand aside!”

Lucifer arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow; his gaze challenging as he crossed his arms firmly over his chest. “Why should I? He belongs to me, after all.”

Crowley appeared to suddenly find his voice. “Angel,” he gasped. “You can’t be here.”

“Of course he can,” Lucifer said brightly, stepping into Crowley’s space and wrapping his arm around the slender demon’s narrow shoulders. “I invited him, after all.”


	8. Chapter 8

Crowley stared longingly at Aziraphale, silently pleading with him not to do anything foolish. The angel was practically vibrating with the need to act; his distress visibly mounting when Lucifer wrapped an arm around Crowley’s waist. The demon shook his head minutely, his horror peaking when Aziraphale mantled his wings threateningly… _dear Go-, dear Sa-, dear bloody someone, his stupid, foolish angel was squaring off against the king of hell!_

Lucifer snarled in answer, his own mammoth wings instinctively stretching high and huge. Crowley most definitely didn’t squeak in alarm, squirming against Lucifer’s hold as he desperately tried to break free and reach his angel.

Aziraphale, the absolute flaming idiot, didn’t back down. He took another step forward, his hand reaching for a sword he hadn’t possessed for over six thousand years. “Release him,” he demanded, his tone surprisingly firm as he continued to close the distance between them.

Crowley started thrashing, bordering on hysterical. He needed to get free - he had to save Aziraphale.

“Stop struggling,” Lucifer snarled, his grasp tightening painfully around Crowley’s waist.”Calm down!”

Crowley went limp, trembling violently as the king of hell glared at him. He drew his own wings close to his back and cringed within the confines of Lucifer’s grasp. “Sorry, sorry...” he gasped, instinctively bowing his head as Lucifer’s eyes flashed with hellfire.

Crowley was so far beyond being OK.

Aziraphale pursed his lips, clearly concerned at their proximity. “I won’t ask again,” he said, his tone high and panicked as he took another step forward. “Let him go.”

There was less than an arms width between them. The room filled with static, their combined energy making the hairs on the back of Crowley’s neck stand up. He was caught between a principality and the king of hell -- he was going to die.

“Lucifer,” Mazikeen drawled, trying for casual despite the wariness in her stance. It was comforting to know he wasn’t the only one having an internal meltdown. “Killing the principality is not part of the plan.”

_There was a plan? That so did not sound good._

“Go on then,” Lucifer said, abruptly releasing Crowley with a little shove that sent him staggering into Aziraphale’s arms. “Go to your angel.”

Before Crowley could properly enjoy being in Aziraphel’s comforting embrace the angel gripped his hip and guided/pushed him behind his greater bulk. Crowley didn’t protest, too distraught to think coherently as they stood facing Lucifer.

At least they were together.

“There now, “ Lucifer said softly, watching them both with a small, secret smile. “Let’s everyone just calm down, shall we?”

“We’re leaving,” Aziraphale said, shuffling them both backwards. "Don't try to stop us!"

“You’re not leaving,” Lucifer said, shaking his head reproachfully. “Trying would be monumentally stupid.”

“More stupid than following a demon into hell?” Mazikeen asked brightly, stepping beside Lucifer and resting her elbow against his shoulder. She cocked her head thoughtfully. “You guys make a cute couple.”

“You are a pretty pair,” Lucifer agreed, turning his back as he approached his liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink. “You’ve certainly left your mark on him,” he remarked, tipping a glass of amber liquid in the angel’s direction. “Even so, he’s still mine and I do not appreciate it when the agents of heaven enter my home and try to steal my things. Not to sound childish, but you’ve already got plenty of your own toys to play with.”

Aziraphale sputtered, too upset to immediately respond. “He-he is not a...he is not a possession. He is a -”

“He’s a demon,” Lucifer interrupted smoothly. “And that makes him _mine_. Unless you have something worth trading, of course.”

Crowley felt his breath catch. He pressed his face against his angel’s shoulder and closed his eyes tightly. “Don’t make a deal with him,” he whispered, horrified when Lucifer shot him a burning look. “Aziraphel, don’t.”

The angel patted his hand comfortingly, his gaze never leaving Satan. “It will all be well, my love,” he whispered and then, louder and more confident. “What do you want?”

“I’m so glad you asked,” Lucifer said brightly, dropping onto his throne with a dramatic flourish. “You see, I have quite the dilemma. It appears that those up above are planning another attack. I’m told they have a secret weapon, something that could turn the tide for good.”

“What does that have to do with us?” Aziraphale asked, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew, of course, he knew.

“Say no,” Crowley whispered, begging. “Angel, please say no.”

Lucifer smiled, huge and charming.


	9. Chapter 9

“What were you thinking?” Crowley hissed the moment the door to the cell slammed shut and they were finally alone. He grabbed Aziraphale’s cost lapels and pressing his head against his angel's shoulder. “You could have been destroyed. You could still be destroyed.”

“I couldn’t bear it,” Aziraphale whispered, running shaking fingers through Crowley’s hair. “Not knowing if you were OK. If you were scared or hurt... I’m so sorry my love, but I simply couldn’t bear not knowing.”

“Stupid,” Crowley hissed, shaking his head against his angel’s shoulder as he breathed in his familiar scent. He hated how much it soothed his frayed nerves - it was so wonderfully familiar and comforting -- he knew it was selfish. Aziraphale was in danger because of him. “You’re such...you’re -”

“We’re together at least,” his angel whispered, rubbing his hand gently against the space between Crowley’s wings. “That’s all that really matters.”

“I’m scared for you,” he admitted, pulling the principality close. “Your kind aren’t made to survive down here.”

“All will be well,” Aziraphale promised, stepping back and taking Crowley’s hands in his own. “They’ve given us some small comforts at least,” he tugged Crowley gently towards the bed. “Come on, sweetheart. You’re swaying on your feet.”

Crowley opened his mouth to protest but, truthfully, he really was extraordinarily tired. He hadn’t rested since being dragged into hell. He allowed his angel to manoeuvre him into a sitting position, watching Aziriphale as he knelt before Crowley and removed both of his boots.

Despite himself, Crowley’s lips twitched into a smile. “I really don’t think this is the time angel.”

Aziraphale looked up at him with an amused smile. “Lie down, dear.”

Crowley shrugged and lay down on the bed with a tired sigh. Aziraphale climbed in after him, nudging Crowley back until his wings were pressed against the wall. The angel turned them both on their side, facing the wall and cocooning Crowley within the confines of his wings. 

“Your backs exposed,” Crowley said softly, concerned.

“I won’t be sleeping, love. I won’t be taken unawares.”

Crowley nodded, lacking the strength to argue. He knew his angel didn’t sleep - that he would watch over them. For the first time since being dragged to hell, Crowley allowed himself to relax a little.

Neither of them spoke for a while and Crowley felt his eyes grow heavy. “I missed you,” he said, the words bursting unbidden from his lips.

He felt Aziraphel’s smile against his hair. “And I you, my love. Now go to sleep. You're exhausted.”

“‘M trying,” Crowley said irritably. “Brain won’t shut up.” 

Aziraphale thrummed softly, the familiar and comforting hum further soothing Crowley’s ravaged nerves. “There’s nothing we can do right now. The best thing you can do is sleep and heal.”

Crowley bit his lip before pressing closer to his angel’s familiar warmth. “What do you think he wants?” he whispered

“Nothing good, I fear,” Aziraphale chuckled nervously. “Not that one expects Satan to be up to much good, of course.”

Crowley turned over until they were facing one another and reached out to frame the principalities face with his hands. He laid a gentle kiss against Aziraphel’s lips and pressed their foreheads together. “I can’t leave the castle.”

“Why not?” hel asked gently.

“He’s put a jinx on me. I physically can’t leave the castle.”

“That...complicates things,” his angel said with a small sigh of unease. “But we’ll work out. But for now, rest.”

“Are-are you OK Aziraphel?” Crowley asked, suddenly noticing how pale the principality was. He was actually perspiring. “You don’t look...”

“Oh...oh, I’m fine,” he insisted, taking Crowley’s hand and pressing a gentle kiss against his knuckles. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Seriously,” Crowley said, settling back as far as the wall would allow. “Somethings wrong,” his gaze travelled over his angel, pulling his hands free as he ran them frantically over Aziraphel. “You’re hurt!”

“Well, maybe a little,” Aziraphale admitted, actually looking a little embarrassed. “Asmodeus may have -”

“He stabbed you,” Crowley said, sitting up and pressing his angel onto his back. He undid the buttons on Aziraphel’s waistcoat and felt a shock of horror when he saw a golden patch of blood. He pulled his shirt up, feeling a little frantic when he was confronted with a red, ugly gash. “You bloody idiot. This could have discorporated you.”

“I was going to tell you,” the principality said prissily. “But you’re clearly exhausted. I didn’t want -”

“Shush,” Crowley said, pressing his hand over the wound and concentrating on healing the infection. Asmodeus was a sadistic bastard, infusing his blade with all sorts of horrors. If left untreated Aziraphel definitely would have succumbed to the injury. The idea that he could have died was terrifying. “There,” he said, satisfied that the badness was removed before closing the wound. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” Aziraphale admitted, patting Crowley fondly on the cheek. “You really are incredibly good at that.”

“It’s a gift,” Crowley said, lying back down with a woozy sigh, “Super useful in my line of work.”

“Sleep my love,” Aziriphael instructed softly, his tone fond. “Now that we’re together all will be well. I promise.”


	10. Chapter 10

Crowley woke with a start, clearly disorientated and more than a little fearful as his beautiful serpentine eyes flickered suspiciously around the room. “Aziraphale?” he asked tremulously, struggling to untangle himself and sit upright. “Angel?”

“Good morning, dear,” Aziraphale greeted, keeping his tone purposefully chipper as he gently cupped his demons cheek. He couldn’t help but note how Crowley's hair was adorably tousled with sleep, sticking up in every direction as he slowly became more aware of his surroundings.

“Morning,” his demon replied, relaxing and yawning impossibly wide as he flopped bonelessly into the mattress. He stretched within the confines of Aziraphale’s embrace, his body ridiculously flexible. “Ughh...feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“You poor dear. Did you at least sleep well?” Aziraphale asked, taking some comfort from Crowley’s achingly familiar scent. After his abduction, he genuinely feared he would never see his demon again. Being able to just hold him was such a painful relief. 

“Surprisingly, yeah,” Crowley answered, clearly still groggy as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Kill for an espresso though.”

“Or a cup of tea,” Aziraphale said longingly. 

Crowley’s expression softened as he ran a light finger over the angel's stomach. “Can I see?”

“It’s better darling, I promise.”

“I know that. I healed it myself didn’t I?” Crowley answered, his hands hovering nervously over Aziraphale’s wound. “But I’d like to see anyway.”

“Oh, very well then,” the angel said indulgently, opening his shirt so the serpent could examine the non-existent wound. “See, I’m fine. You healed me perfectly love.”

“Good,” Crowley muttered, rightening Aziraphale’s clothing before turning to face the wall and pressing his back against the angel’s chest. “How long was I asleep?”

“Difficult to tell for sure...time seems to move oddly here. If I had to guess, I’d say thirteen hours, give or take. I debated waking you but it seemed clear you needed the rest. I have to admit, you do look a little better now.”

“Thanks, Angel,” Crowley whispered softly, burrowing closer into the angel. “Why do you think they’re waiting for?”

“Giving us time to stew I imagine, though you know Lucifer far better than I do. What do you think he’s up to?”

Crowley huffed out a humourless laugh. “I don’t know him angel. I’ve barely spoken to him since the garden.”

“He seems to have taken a...shine to you, my dear.”

“It’s not me,” Crowley said, turning over to face Aziraphale. “He wants you for something. Whatever it is, you can’t give it to him, you know that? The minutes he gets his hooks into you, you’ll -”

“You wound me serpent!”

Aziraphale spun around, flinging himself off the bed and mantling his wings threateningly. Lucifer raised one eyebrow, clearly unconcerned the angel posed a threat to him. 

“Don’t talk to him,” Aziraphale ordered quietly.

“Or you’ll do what, exactly?” Satan asked with a small, mean smile. “Will you attack me, here in my domain?”

“If I need to,” he said softly and lord help him, he meant it. He would do anything to keep Crowley safe.

“Stop it, angel,” Crowley whispered, fisting his hands in Aziraphale’s shirt. He looked over the angel’s shoulder, his nervous energy almost tangible. “What do you want...lord?” 

“Your manners are atrocious, Crowley,” Lucifer said, his eyes still locked on Aziraphale.”Now shush, the grown-ups are talking.”

“Do not talk to him like that,” Aziraphale hissed, outraged on Crowley’s behalf. His demon was strong and...he was good! He didn’t deserve to be belittled.

Lucifer just smirked, folding his arms over his broad chest as he positively projected superiority. “I trust you’re well-rested? Both of you?”

“I’ve had better nights sleep,” Crowley murmured into Azirpahale’s shoulder. 

Lucifer finally looked at Crowley. His demon released a quiet gasp, his grip on Aziraphale somehow tightening. Aziralhale’s wings automatically rose up in response, shielding Crowley from view. 

“You’d really do anything to keep him safe, wouldn’t you?” Lucifer asked, a gentle smile on his face.

Aziraphale didn’t respond. How could he?

“Anything, principality?”

“What do you want?” Aziraphale demanded, unwilling to play the devils games.

Satan shrugged, clearly unimpressed. “You’re going to get something for me. It shouldn’t be so hard, I doubt anyone is going to suspect you. You’re probably quite invisible among your brethren.”

“What do you want?” he repeated, feeling something uncomfortable lodge in his throat.

“Good boy,” Lucifer said, smug. “You’ve heard of the sword of Michael of course? The celestial blade.”

Aziraphale gaped, unable to find the words for how utterly, ridiculously impossible the request was. He shook his head wordlessly, pressing Crowley back when Lucifer’s eyes narrowed with displeasure. “What you’re asking of me...it’s impossible. You must know that?”

“I know nothing of the sort. Will you do it, or are you refusing?”

“I can’t take Michael’s sword. I don’t have the means. And even if I somehow succeeded, Michael would destroy me for it. Surely you can’t -“

“Enough,” Lucifer interrupted. “Step aside.”

Aziraphale straightened his spine, pushing down his fear. “No.”

“Step aside now, or I will move you,” Lucifer growled, mantling his great wings as his handsome personage melted away. Aziraphale found himself looking in the very face of the devil.

“I will not move.”

“Angel,” Crowley whispered, clearly terrified. “Please, don’t.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Crowley, come here,” Lucifer drawled, keeping his tone purposefully disinterested as he carefully inspected his nails. He waited, surprised when the demon didn’t immediately scramble to obey. “ _Now_.”

The serpent startled, his golden eyes huge as he stared pleadingly at the angel.

“Crowley, don’t make me ask -”

“ _Don’t you dare_ ,” Aziraphale interrupted when the demon took a faltering step forward. Crowley froze, his gaze jumping between Lucifer and the angel before he stepped back. The principality threw Lucifer a pointed look, mantling his wings in an attempt to look bigger and scarier than he actually was. “He isn’t going anywhere with you.”

“Is that a fact?” Lucifer asked, inwardly amused as he glanced between them. They really were a spectacularly different pair and in a world full of vindictive angels and snivelling demons it was a refreshing change. Still, certain appearances needed to be upheld. He tsked softly, taking a single step forward. He smirked when the angel scuttled backwards, pushing the serpent behind him. “You won't steal the sword for me, you’re being quite rude and worst of all you’re standing between me and my thrall. You begin to perturb me.”

“Angel,” the demon hissed, his face barely visible behind the principalities wings. “You won’t win.”

“Too true,” Lucifer agreed, taking another measured step forward. He observed the way the angel bristled but continued to give ground. “You should listen to your little friend, he at least has some small measure of sense. _Step aside_.”

The principality shook his head desperately. He raised his hand and it began to glow with a faint ethereal glow. The ground beneath him began to spark and tremble, reacting poorly to the divinity effulging the angel corporal form.

“You’ll destroy yourself,” Lucifer warned, affecting boredom despite his unease. He didn’t particularly want the angel to end himself. It seemed like such a...waste. “Crowley, be a dear and control your angel.”

“Do not talk to him,” the angel shouted as his whole body became enveloped in a blinding white light. “Do not -”

Maze came out of nowhere, grabbing the serpent by his hair and dragging him back several feet. The angel spun around, stupidly putting his back to Lucifer as he desperately reached for the pair.

“Back off,” Maze snarled, pressing a jagged blade against the demon’s exposed throat. Crowley swallowed convulsively but otherwise remained very still.

“Please,” the angel gasped, his bravery gone in a heartbeat in the face of his lovers’ possible demise. “You don’t need to hurt him. We can talk about this.“

Maze drew the blade slowly up the demon’s jaw until the tip was resting below Crowley’s right eye. She pressed her lips against his ear, whispering something too quietly for Lucifer to hear. The serpent shuddered, momentarily squeezing his eyes closed before staring beseechingly at the angel. “Angel, _please_. Stop.”

“Alright,” he said, releasing his power and opening his arms wide. “I’ve stopped, see? There really isn’t any reason to hurt him. I’m not a threat to you.”

“A threat?” Maze snorted, moving the blade until it was poised over Crowley’s heart. “Do you know where you are. Who he is?” she shook her head in disgust. “Of course you’re not a threat. At this point, you’re barely even an inconvenience.”

“Please,” the angel said, his voice shaking. He seemed close to tears. “Give him back to me.”

“I don’t think so,” Lucifer said, walking around the angel as he approached _his_ demons. The principality didn’t like that. His wings mantled again, growing wide and shaking, his agitation clear “We’ve already tried the carrot. It appears it may be time for the stick.” He grabbed the serpent by his scruff and dragged him against his chest. Crowley cringed and shuddered but he sensibly remained very still. There was clearly nothing wrong with his sense of self-preservation. “Crowley is going to come with me and you will remain here to think about what we discussed. When you’re ready to properly negotiate I may let you seem him again.”

For a moment he genuinely thought the angel was going to attack him. He tensed, preparing to lash out when all of a sudden all of the fight seemed to bleed out of the principality. He staggered back, his eyes wide and tearful as he looked longingly at the serpent. “I will get us out of this my dear. I promise you.”

“It’s going to be OK,” Crowley whispered, his voice shaking as Lucifer took his upper arm and dragged him out of the hall. Maze followed close behind them, her blade spinning casually between her slender fingertips.

“That went well,” she declared flatly.

 _“Ha-ha,_ ” Lucifer said, tightening his grip a little in case Crowley got any ideas about bolting. “He’s a stubborn bastard, I’ll give him that.”

“So now what?”

The reached the door to his private suite. He noticed the way the guards watched Crowley as he dragged the demon inside. “Some time apart is bound to improve the angel’s attitude. I have a feeling he’ll do just about anything to keep his little serpent safe.”

He pushed Crowley onto his sofa and watched with some amusement as Maze landed next to him. She immediately started running her fingers through his thick auburn hair. “If you want to hurry things along I imagine sending the angel a finger or eyeball might do the trick.”

“ _Oh Mancheste_ r,” Crowley moaned, pressing his face into his hands as Maze continued to run her fingers through his hair.

“A finger perhaps,” Lucifer said, despite the fact he had no intention of maiming the serpent. He wasn't usually squeamish but something about damaging the serpent left a bad taste in his mouth. “But not the eyes.”

“They are pretty I suppose,” Maze purred. “What do you think Crowley - would your angel be willing to share?”

Another moan, quieter and muffled. Lucifer chuckled as he went to help himself to a drink. “Scotch?” he asked Maze.

“Why not,” she tapped the serpent lightly on the back of his head. “And what about you? I bet you could use a drink.”

“Why not,” he said, looking up at last. He was shaking softly but appeared to have mostly pulled himself together. He took the glass when Lucifer offered it to him and downed the contents in one long swallow. He raised the glass beseechingly. “So, what happens now?”

“Weren’t you paying attention?” Maze asked with a smile. “Now we wait.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small chapter whilst I get back into GO :)

“Crowley...is he well?”

The lesser demon arched a delicate eyebrow, exhibiting disinterest as she checked her flawlessly lacquered fingernails. “Well enough,” she stepped closer with an inquisitive smile. “Are you fucking him?”

Aziraphale resisted the urge to admonish the Lilim. It was important, for Crowley’s sake, that he remain polite and calm. He wouldn’t endanger his darling because he was incapable of keeping his temper in check. “Crowley and I are very close,” he said, refusing to debase either of them with anything more explicit. 

“He’s pretty, huh?” she said, grinning wickedly. “Did he tempt you into it?”

“We’ve been friends for over five thousand years. I very much doubt he’s capable of tempting me to do anything I don’t want to do.”

“Maybe he’s playing the long game.”

“Perhaps,” Aziraphale allowed, eyeing the locked door of his cell. “But I rather think not.”

“Heaven must love you,” she drawled, falling elegantly in the only available chair, in a manner that reminded him very much of his dear serpent.

“Yes, well...I suppose, all things said and done, I might not be the most popular of angels. It hardly matters...I never did fit in, not really.”

“Just like your demon,” she said, her eyes sparkling in her ruined face. “I’ve heard tales about the snake of Eden all my life. I have to admit, he isn’t what I was expecting.”

“And what exactly were you expecting?” he asked, feeling oddly defensive.

“A sinister manipulator with a proclivity for evil.”

“He’s none of those things,” Aziraphale said primly, his heart swelling with thoughts of his beautiful, kind, wily serpent. 

“No shit,” she laughed. “He’s ridiculous,” her eyes travelled the length of the angel. “You both are.”

Aziraphale decided not to dignify that with a response. “Not that this isn’t lovely, but is there a particular reason you’re visiting me this morning?”

Her gaze narrowed. “Do you know who I am?”

“I’ve heard of you,” he said, steadily meeting her gaze. “And I would advise you not to lay your hands on me, my dear.”

“You’re hurt,” she said, her gaze travelling to the wound in his side. “Do you really think you’d stand a chance?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale said. “I do.”

They stared at one another for a long moment. “Alright angel, I’m here to talk to you about Michael’s sword.”

“I already told you, it’s impossible. The blade hasn’t been seen for thousands of years. I wouldn’t even know where to begin...”

“You’re smart,” Maze drawled as she moved fluidly to her feet. “You’ll figure it out.”

She was leaving and Aziraphale still hadn't seen Crowley. He shot to his feet, ignoring the way she immediately tensed. “If I say I’ll do it...if I promise, will you give him back to me?”

“If we give him back to you, what’s stopping you from running off with him?” She asked as her hand hovered above the door.

The idea had occurred to him, truth be told. There had to be a way out for both of them that wouldn’t end in oblivion. If he could just get to Crowley.

“I thought so,” she said knowingly as Aziraphale flushed guiltily. “I’ll tell you what, you agree to get us that sword and I’ll make sure the boss let’s you see him for a couple of hours before you go.”

“What do you plan to do with it? The sword I mean.”

“Don’t you worry your fluffy little head about that,” she said mockingly. “So, will you do it?”

Aziraphale hesitated but truthfully, what choice did he have?

“Yes,” he said heavily. “I’ll do it.”


	13. Chapter 13

Lucifer strode into his lounge and was unsurprised to find his houseguest missing. He suppressed a heartfelt sigh and massaged the bridge of his nose tiredly. “I don’t feel like playing hide and seek. Come out, Crowley.”

He heard an unhappy little hiss a moment before the familiar, small form of his resident serpent slithered out from beneath his liquor cabinet. Lucifer looked at him expectantly, waiting. “If you’d be so kind?”

The serpent curled into a tight ball.

“I won’t ask again.”

The other demon transformed into a man-shaped form. Crowley kept his arms wrapped firmly around his slender waist as he stared determinedly at the floor. His fear was a palatable, almost tangible thing.

“At least I didn’t need to hunt you out this time. It appears you can be trained after all.”

He received a fleeting but undeniable glare in response. Lucifer felt his lips twitch into a smile, suddenly intrigued. “Am I to assume you resent being compared to a trained animal?”

Crowley’s eyes flashed in panic. He ducked his head nervously. 

“Speak Crowley.”

“I could hear Hastur outside. He was trying to get in,” the demon said eventually, his nervous golden gaze jumping around the room. “The guards kept him out…”

Hmmm, interesting. Was the duke truly so desperate for his revenge he was willing to enter Lucifer’s chambers uninvited. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”

“Not likely,” he answered with a huff. His gaze locked with Lucifer, his nicely toned chest expanding slightly. “When can I see Aziraphale?”

“Soon,” he promised. “First, I want you to do something for me.”

Crowley took what looked like an instinctive step back. “I don’t…”

“You haven’t even heard my request yet. It’s nothing too taxing. I merely wish to...take a look. To understand your relationship with the angel a little better.”

Crowley’s mouth fell open before a look of utter horror passed over his sharp features. “You can’t be...no, definitely not!”

Lucifer stepped towards him, mildly put out when the serpent scampered back. He put out his hand, stalling the other demon. “Calm down, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Oh, very reassuring,” Crowley drawled, yelping in alarm when Lucifer pounced and snagged his wrist. The fallen tried to twist free, clearly terrified. 

“Stop,” Lucifer commanded, trying to keep his tone calm when the demon thrashed violently. He grabbed Crowley’s upper arms and shook him. “I said STOP.”

The smaller demon squeaked in alarm, practically going limp. Lucifer suspected he was the only thing keeping Crowley upright. “Just calm down. It won’t hurt,” he repeated, lifting his hand and sweeping Crowley’s shockingly red hair out of his wide golden eyes. “That’s it, calm down.”

He pressed his hand over Crowley’s eyes, ignoring the demon's whimper of fright as he pressed inwards, forcing his way inside the serpent's memories. Crowley certainly wasn’t welcoming, his thoughts battering furiously at Lucifer as he traced his way through 5000 years spent on earth.

His relationship with the angel really was incredibly sweet. From the start, when most angels and demons killed one another on sight, the two formed a gentle and mutually beneficial relationship that had grown stronger through the millennia. It was obvious the snake idolised his angel. What was also clearly obvious was that the angel would do absolutely anything for him. 

Aziraphale would steal Michael’s sword for Lucifer, if it meant keeping his demon safe.

“Am I intruding?” Maze asked, breaking Lucifer’s concentration as she stepped purposefully into the room. Lucifer broke the connection, snaking a hand around Crowley’s waist before he could collapse. 

Crowley was shaking violently, his head bowed as he attempted to collect his senses. He pushed weakly as Lucifer, trying to break free. 

“Just getting to know our resident angel and serpent a little better,” he admitted, pulling Crowley upright and wrapping a loose hand around the other fallen’s slender throat. “we’re like fast friends now, isn’t that right Crowley?”

Crowley tensed before squeezing his eyes closed. He was shaking again. Lucifer took mercy on him and gently released the serpent. Crowley staggered back, barely managing to keep his footing as he looked widely between them.

“Doesn’t look like he enjoyed the experience much,” Maze said offhandedly. “He’s crying.”

Lucifer felt a small, almost undetectable stab of guilt. He pushed the useless feeling down, determined not to be swayed by softness. “So he is,” he agreed, affecting a bored tone. “Not that I’m not always pleased to have the pleasure of your company, but it there something I can help you with?”

“I’ve finished interrogating the angel.”

Crowley made a small, choking noise.

“And?” Lucifer asked, ignoring him.

“He said yes, providing you release the serpent if he succeeds.”

“Excellent,” Lucifer said, clapping his hands together happily. “I knew he’d come round.”

Poor Crowley looked like he was about to fall over. He was sputtering something fierce, his anger so potent that he actually stepped towards Lucifer with a pointer finger. “No, no that is not happening. Not to my angel. No!”

“Adorable,” Maze said, wrapping an arm around Crowley’s narrow waist. “He’s like a mad puppy.”

Crowley looked down at Maze, his eyes flashing.

“I advise you to think very carefully about what you’re planning,” Lucifer said in a bored tone. “If you raise a hand to her, she’s likely to rip it off.”

Crowley paled, his eyes growing wide and moist. “Please leave him out of this. He doesn’t deserve to be dragged -“

“My dear,” Lucifer interrupted easily. “He involved himself the day he decided not to attack you. If he’s going to bond with a demon he has no one to blame but himself when the devil takes notice.”

“He wants to see him before he leaves,” Maze said, her fingers playing with Crowley’s hair.

“Very well,” Lucifer agreed. “They can spend the night together.”

“Wait!” Crowley sputtered as Maze led him from his chambers. “There has to be something else you want? Anything, and I’ll do it for you. Please, there has to be!”


End file.
